


yugyeom-centric drabbles

by subgyeom



Series: yugyeom-centric collection [9]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Kim Yugyeom, Drabble Collection, Kim Yugyeom-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subgyeom/pseuds/subgyeom
Summary: smaller fics centred on got7's maknae.





	1. i lose control (when i hear your body move) [yugbum + oc]

**Author's Note:**

> [ i've been writing some pretty small things that i don't really want to post by themselves bc i don't feel like they're good or long enough, so i figured i might as well make a collection for things i wrote in like an hour and spent absolutely no time on when i should be writing more important fics :) ]
> 
> this chapter features:  
> \- oc pov  
> \- oc/yugyeom (one-sided), jaebum/yugyeom, mentions of yugyeom-centric ot7  
> \- accidental and non-consensual voyeurism, semi-public sex  
> \- pretty cracky tbh

seojoon is _many_ things, but experienced he is not.

he’s new to this whole thing - _touring_ \- and he’s only ended up here because the actual back-up dancer had fallen ill just a week before it all began. he’s just an understudy and he’s not quite used to this, despite the years and years of vigorous performing in front of a mirror in a practice room. he’s not quite used to the strain on his aching limbs and the pain that spikes up his back when he stumbles off the stage and the constant need for a shower every night. seojoon’s also not used to the boys who outshine him either.

got7 are an interesting bunch. when seojoon had first learnt he’d be joining them, he may have squealed, just a little bit - because they were _his_ idols, the ones he spent hours watching on vlive and the ones who he’d thrown money at just to peek their faces at concerts and the ones whose forms lined his walls in old posters (facts he never wants to admit). after years of being a baby bird, he’d had plenty of time to learn the ins and outs of the personalities they’d presented and it was confirmed that they were just a group of amazingly talented dorks with very, very pretty faces. there was slight differences in most, in six specifically, but one - oh, one was so different.

seojoon didn’t know what he expected from yugyeom, but _this_ was not it. yugyeom was something of an enigma to him - switching from a downright sinful boy on stage that made seojoon question his bias list with every move of his hips to a slightly crazy but amusing ball of energy who made seojoon smile whenever he starting spilling out random english words. he gathered that yugyeom’s duality would be present - but it seemed the boy had many more different sides to him. the yugyeom that greeted him the first night was _soft_ , pretty pink lips pulled into a breathtaking grin, grey hair swept apart on his forehead, just above fluttering eyelashes that brushed against his high cheekbones, his eyes full of a tender happiness seojoon had never witnessed before that moment.

seojoon was gone the moment that high-pitched, sugary sweet voice said ‘hello’.

(and seojoon hadn’t even felt guilty when he brought up his twitter and changed his profile picture from youngjae to yugyeom.)

and so, it seemed, were many others. there seemed to be a general agreement between all of the dancers that yugyeom was probably the most beautiful person any of them had ever seen, a fact that had made his enchanted rambling slightly less embarrassing. the only one of them that seemed in any way not romantically interested in yugyeom was sungjin, who was fond of yugyeom in the way an older brother was and nothing more. seojoon had figured at first that it was likely to do with the fact that sungjin had been with the group for what must have felt like eons, ever since their debut, when yugyeom was far too young to be viewed on with anything other than familial affection.

sungjin had always been a helping hand, offering the advice that had truly helped seojoon survive all of this - but he always had this amused smile on his lips whenever any of them brought up how wonderful yugyeom had looked that night or how angelic his giggling had sounded or how heavenly his singing had been to their now blessed ears (overly sappy things, of course, that makes seojoon flush in shame just thinking of them). and whenever anyone even mentions bothering the boys after a concert, sungjin laughs knowingly - a full-bodied thing, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach and wiping away tears - ignoring the way everyone looks at him as if he’s suddenly lost his mind.

seojoon thinks he understands now.

he doesn’t know his way around these venues, not in the way the others do from years of manoeuvring through every inch of enclosed space, so he’s a little bit lost, which isn’t the best thing to do when you desperately need to relieve yourself and/or regain your lost calm because someone had been clad in leather pants today, which defined thick thighs and made it a little hard for him to breathe. seojoon really needs to write a thank you letter to the stylists for the clothes they make yugyeom wear.

it’s in the back on an empty room, likely meant for comfort, his jeans so tight around a certain part of him it _hurts_ , that he hears it.

a breathy whimper, barely audible, but seojoon catches it - because he knows this voice. it’s the voice who sings him to sleep every night without even knowing, the voice that had captured his attention and had never let go, the voice that he may or may not jack off to every now and again. followed by the sound of footsteps and seojoon realises there is a pair of figures nearing the door, quickly throwing himself into a space to hide, not wanting to be caught in one of the rooms that may be forbidden (and maybe not making himself known for more selfish, slightly sick reasons).

the boy who haunts seojoon’s dreams is there, being gently shoved into the room, looking absolutely the opposite of the confident boy who struts across the stage as if he owns it. his lips are swollen, slick and red and pulled into a demure little frown, and he’s shrinking in on himself, seeming so small when in fact he’s one of the tallest people seojoon’s ever met. those pretty lips part and form a name, stuttering. “j-jaebum-hyung…”

the leader practically slams the door shut behind him, closing it with such force that seojoon is surprised the lock doesn’t break under his powerful hands, before peering over his shoulder at the boy in a way that’s so full of pure heat in seems to almost knock yugyeom off his feet. there’s only one word seojoon could describe him as in this moment - _predator_. and yugyeom must be his prey, letting out a quiet submissive noise that shocks seojoon more than anything when jaebum steps forward, curling a hand around his neck and tugging him into a violent kiss with a little too much tongue. yugyeom doesn’t respond, just lets jaebum fuck his mouth with a feriousity that’s too filthy for seojoon to handle, those pretty sounds falling from his lips as easy as it is for seojoon’s cock to throb in his jeans.

seojoon should probably say something, should call out and stop whatever is about to occur in front of his pure eyes - but he can’t, jaebum pushing yugyeom back until he tumbles onto the expanse of the old-seeming couch worn with use (probably not from intimate moments like these), and he kind of doesn’t want to, fascinated in the way yugyeom allows jaebum to unbuckle his belt and drag those hellish pants down long, long legs, not at all protesting, just biting his lip in anticipation for whatever is too come. seojoon almost _shouts_ when jaebum drags his boxers off, because the boy he’s almost unhealthily obsessed with is half-naked in front of him and about to get fucked and he’d never thought himself lucky enough to witness this, even if the other isn’t aware.

the fanboy part of seojoon that has read too much fanficition almost expects jaebum to turn and look him in the eyes and fucking wink like every scene he’s ever read in some kind of raunchy story.

the words that fall from jaebum’s lips are dirty and the way he touches yugyeom is even dirtier, skillful hands kneading at his muscles, running over bruised skin. there’s marks of different sizes all over yugyeom’s lower half - bites in the dips where his thigh meets his pelvis, marks where the hips of whoever has been fucking him have slammed too hard into sensitive flesh, handprints engraved into the curve of his ass. jaebum groans when he spreads those legs that seojoon may have an unnecessary fixation on apart and seojoon has to stuff his hand in his mouth to stop the moan that wants to escape at the sight of the small leaking cock that rests against yugyeom’s thigh. it’s so, so hard not to make any noise when jaebum moves a little lower, exposing his hidden rim that jaebum dips his fingers quickly into, bringing out whines that makes seojoon _throb_.

“your hole looks so loose but still feels so tight, baby.” yugyeom’s back arches at the affectionate name that jaebum sounds out and seojoon begins to ponder the little things, what makes yugyeom tick - but then a particular hard thrust makes yugyeom throw his head back and moan, strangled and drawn out and still so _pretty_ and any sense of thought leaves seojoon’s brain. the room is filled with filthy slapping noises as jaebum’s slips more of his fingers in and seojoon wonders how much yugyeom can take until he breaks - three fingers? four? maybe all of them? a particularly needy mewl makes jaebum chuckle, low. “you’re so greedy, gyeomie. mark-hyung already ate you out today and jinyoung-ah and bambam-ah fucked you at the same time but you still want more cock, don’t you, honey?” seojoon’s so floored by the new information that he barely takes in the sob yugyeom lets out, the pleads for more, more, _more_.

seojoon don’t think he can be blamed for wrapping a hand around himself the moment jaebum slides past the stretched rim.

(later, when he arrives back at the hotel, sungjin will corner him when he no one is looking.

“you doing alright, seojoon-ah? you looked a little, uh, frazzled earlier.”

there is a knowing smirk on his lips.

seojoon hates him for a second.)


	2. this love is like fire and ice [jingyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm about to go make jingyeom in the sims what is wrong with me
> 
> this chapter features:  
> \- superpowers au  
> \- pre-jingyeom  
> \- it's angtsy?? i guess??  
> \- warnings: talk of burns/scars

yugyeom’s mother always warned him to stay away with those whose veins were flooded with fire. 

she had never explained it, just let that indulging smile fall on her lips whenever he’d tried to question her. she always seemed tired, wearied by his curiosity in all things, and she did all she could to shoo thoughts of  _ those  _ people from his mind - never referring to them by a name and acting as if a mention of them was a slur, an insult. yugyeom took her aversion as overprotectiveness - he’d always known that fire and ice wasn’t a good combination and imagined that his mother was simply scared of an outcome from some kind of animosity between her son and a fire wielder. 

and then yugyeom had grown, had matured, even just that little bit - and suddenly he was taller than every single one of his classmates and the boy who was ridiculed by all of them for things he couldn’t control. the air around him would turn frosty without his knowing, ice would spread across his skin in elegant patterns and he was far too cold to the touch in a way that the people around him didn’t care for. he was the perfect target for any misplaced anger and one day, a boy, a fire wielder, had pushed him behind the school and had scorched his fragile skin so much that it had taken months for the burns to heal, leaving complex scars on his chest in their wake.

in that moment, yugyeom had learnt to fear fire.

but then, jinyoung had come along. yugyeom can vividly remember their first meeting - jinyoung smiling with the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling in a show of pure happiness at bambam’s enthusiasm as he tugged yugyeom over, the confusion that took over his expression as yugyeom shrank into himself (smelling smoke and ash and burning embers and remembering the pain, hot against his frozen skin,  _ blazing  _ and  _ glowing  _ and  _ raging  _ and  _ roaring _ ) and the clarity that took over when bambam explained that yugyeom had a tendency to be shy around strangers (when that wasn’t the issue at all).

the fear that overwhelmed was softened a little by the fact that jinyoung was possibly the most beautiful boy yugyeom had ever seen. 

the relationship, the  _ friendship _ , that followed was unfortunately wavering, at best. it was volatile and full of too much quarrels to be healthy. the arguments were playful, but jinyoung’s words always struck where it hurt and yugyeom could play it off, pretend that every taunt wasn’t breaking him inside, but it was impossible to stop the sharp pain that managed to shatter him more than the burns ever had. jinyoung’s touch against his skin  _ burned _ , made worse by the fact that it felt good, far too good, and yugyeom was forced to resort to wearing clothing that covered every inch of his skin, even when he was in the comfort of the dorm, not to feel those warm hands. yugyeom is made of ice, but his love is made of fire - of too much passion, of lust and desire mixed with overwhelming care and affection. and fire wounds, abuses, mutilates.

“fire will only hurt you, baby.”

mothers know best, don’t they? and god, did his mother not like jinyoung. jinyoung’s a gentleman to all the people he meets, but even his princely charm could not win over such a stubborn woman. her clear disapproval didn’t shock yugyeom, whose cheeks were probably a constant shade of red out of embarrassment towards for her blatant dislike, and it was so fucking painful to hear that the others were not surprised. “like mother, like son,” one of them teased and yugyeom wanted to  _ scream,  _ because the way he felt was nothing in the manner his mother did. he adored jinyoung with every inch of his being and was so fucking scared of it, of jinyoung, of the heat that runs through him and of the rejection he knew was inevitable. 

“why does your mother not like me?” jinyoung asks, his lips curved down into a deep frown that pulls at yugyeom’s heartstrings. they’re sitting on yugyeom’s bed - jinyoung perched on the edge and yugyeom cross-legged clinging to a pillow in his lap for some form on anchor.

“um-” yugyeom hesitates, not fully sure if now is the right moment to spill his guts, to reveal the pain he’s suffered at the hands of people who hold a significant similarity to the boy staring into his eyes with such openness it nearly makes him whimper. “i don’t have the best experiences with, uh, fire.” it’s kind of an understatement, but it still feels so wrong to say, wrong in the way jinyoung winces and peers at him with such pity he doesn’t deserve.

still, he pushes up the oversized shirt covering scarred skin, exposing the wounds littering his tummy - and jinyoung gasps, a sharp thing that cuts through the awkward atmosphere. yugyeom doesn’t blame him. the scars aren’t exactly pretty. still, jinyoung leans over, pressing the pads of his warm fingers against one of the harsher marks and the not entirely unwelcome feeling of warmth against his cold skin lets a shudder through him.

“y-you know,” jinyoung is stuttering in a way that’s quite uncharacteristic, his eyes unable to move away. “you know i’d never do anything like this, right?”

“i know,” yugyeom replies, because jinyoung doesn’t hurt through fire, he hurts through ice - stony words layered with it, as beautiful as a snowflake as he attacks in a manner blizzard-like. he’s somewhat convinced that they got the wrong powers at birth. jinyoung doesn’t seem convinced by his utterance, lips curving downward as he curls a hand around yugyeom’s define jaw, the more intimate touch making his skin burn red (and he isn’t sure if that’s just his blush or how jinyoung’s skin is permanently hot).

“i wouldn’t”. his eyes are gentle, too gentle. “i won’t hurt you, yugyeom.”

yugyeom almost bursts out into incredulous laughter.

because he already has.


	3. insecurities [yugjae]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- angst  
> \- just a small rant piece bc i felt like shit today :)  
> \- not really complete lol  
> \- warnings: self-hatred, talk of insecurities

yugyeom doesn’t understand  _ this _ . some would argue that he doesn’t understand much anyway and it’s a point he won’t dispute, ever aware of the truth of it (because he doesn’t understand why people care so much, showering with pretty words that stick, that he spends hours debating with and questioning when no one else is watching - because he doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand and likely never will), but this seems far too fake.

because youngjae shouldn’t be there, perched on the edge of his bed with yugyeom’s fingers tightly clasped in his hand. there’s a look of curiousity on his face that is too harsh to match his soft features, peering at the younger with a searching gaze that is searching for too much, searching for the things yugyeom has locked away for far too long (locked away and threw away the key because no one needs to know, no one will care). and while this situation has only ever occured in the dreams he’s glad bambam is no longer around to hear his mumbling of, he can’t help but find himself convinced in the way a thumb rubs at his knuckles, easing away the tension present in every part of his long frame.

but then he knocks himself back into reality, because youngjae will never touch him. intimacy will be unknown, only there in the illusions that haunt yugyeom more than he’d ever wish to admit. 

“why don’t you believe me?”  _ oh god _ , yugyeom thinks to himself, because youngjae’s tone is both broken and not, full of suspicion and something that seems close to barely veiled affection and it can’t be that, won’t be that. he bites his lip till it bleeds to hold in the protests that desperately aspire to escape, because youngjae doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve the entirety of yugyeom’s weary world resting on his shoulders. but youngjae knows him, maybe better than anyone, better than the inhabitants of the rooms around him and the ones that left the space feeling empty in a way that suffocates, and maybe he’s willing to pick up yugyeom’s shattered pieces. maybe. he tilts his head, his eyes piercing as he takes in the entirety of him, of how his eyes avoid his glances and how his body is shivering ever so slightly, and it’s so entirely unlike him to be this hard that yugyeom is taken off guard. “or maybe believing isn’t the problem.”

and, partially, it isn’t. because maybe he can allow himself to believe this is real but he can’t convince himself that he’s meant in anyway for the other. “i-” it’s too much, everything’s too much, and yugyeom can already feel everything falling apart around him. “i’m not good for you, hyung.” the words tumble out, a whisper in an already quiet room, and youngjae freezes, as if the answer shocks him. and maybe it does because yugyeom is cheerful, the energetic one of them all with a serene smile ever present on his features - but  _ yugyeom _ , the true yugyeom, hates himself with such a feriousity that it’s honestly a surprise the others haven’t noticed. “i’m not good for anyone.” he admits, and it’s barely audible, near silent, but youngjae will catch it, yugyeom knows he will, because fate has never been a friend. 

“what are you talking about?” youngjae’s voice is cold in a way yugyeom has never heard it. it sends unwelcome shivers down his spine, drowning him in a sense of wrong, wrong,  _ wrong  _ \- and all yugyeom wants to do is run, far far away from this imposter in youngjae’s place.

“i’ll just disappoint you and hurt you and-”

“is this your tactic?” youngjae’s voice is sharp. “are you trying to scare me away? it’s not going to work. or-”

_ don’t say it. please don’t say it. _

“do you actually believe those things about yourself?” 

_ yes. yes i do.  _ and while he doesn’t confirm it, youngjae will know.

“yugyeomie, i-”

_ love your smile and your pretty eyes and the way your entire face lights up whenever you’re happy and how a chocolate drink can suddenly change your entire mood and how when you dance it’s like you’re made for it- _

_ (hate that ugly grin and your uneven eyes and how your happiness is never true, never real, and how you rely on the physical to bring yourself joy because nothing else will and how dance is one of the only things that makes you feel alive anymore-) _

“you’re acting like i’m perfect.”

“you are. to me.”

_ i don’t believe you. _


	4. you won't ever be alone (wait for me to come home) [jackgyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- demon au  
> \- demon!jackson and human!yugyeom  
> \- for once this is just fluffy lol, no angst whatsoever

the moon is casting a shine over the room that illuminates the body curled up underneath the covers.

light brightens up the newly-dyed blonde waves caressing pale skin and highlighting the curve of long legs beneath thin sheets. he's so beautiful, sleepy mumbles falling from pouty lips as he shifts in his slumber, hands clutching at the material under his fingertips in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness, even in his unconcious state. the boy appears to be an angel, saintly and virtuous, halo burning bright and and wings spread out from his back in the form of light strands and pure white sheets.

it's only fitting that there is a demon nearby.

jackson feels abnormally wrong as he stares upon the figure of his fixation. the boy is so strangely innocent, so free of sin, in a manner that is near impossible to find in recent days. jackson is thousands of years old and the feeding from the suffering of the little humans that litter the earth just above his domain is no longer a concern. he's ate enough, is full enough - but even the most sated of demons would feel a subconscious pull to this boy for immoral reasons. those who fall the farthest from heaven are the most delicious in their pain - but jackson doesn't want that. the emotion that screams deep from the heart too black and rotten to be human is not a want for a feast - it's a passion far too mortal.

maybe the angels had been right when they saw his sharp features but contrasting soft eyes and muttered that he wasn't made for anything to do with the underworld.

jackson lets his calloused fingers brush carefully over the soft skin of the ankle that hangs over the edge of the bed, watching with a far too fond smile at how the other shivers at the briefest of touches. he trails over the expanse of the body he cannot help but stare at appreciatively, running over the sharpness of his jawline and the plush of his lips until the boy shudders himself into wake, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he peers blearily up.

"jackson hyung?" the murmur of his name is timid and gentle, barely audible as it slips out of his slack mouth, and jackson can't help the clear affection that overtakes his typically hard-seeming face. the boy blinks one, twice - and then it's as if a switch is turned on in his mind, his pretty eyes switching from filled with confusion to sparkling with happiness. "jackson hyung!"

the demon can't stop the bubbly laughter that rips from his throats as the human vaults into his open arms, the two of them landing in a heap on the softness of the mattress. the stress from a week of never-stopping hard work that forced the tenseness into his muscles melts away the moment he feels the boy nuzzle into his neck and squeeze him as close as he can to his long frame. "missed me, yugyeom-ah?" he teases, dropping a kiss on the top of his head and running his strong hands down the large expanse of the other's back.

"of course." yugyeom is smiling, teeth seeping into his grin, and it's blinding, sending sparks of affection through jackson's veins. "but you're home now."

"i'm home," jackson agrees.

and when their lips finally meet, it's as if the world disappears.

 


	5. bad boy [yugbum]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 0.3k.  
> \- angst.  
> \- high school au.

there's too many warning signs to count.

jaebum has two more years of experience, has his hair slicked back and piercings clinging to his lips, has the evidence of a life separate in pleasure painted in his smirk. he tastes of ash, of too much smoke inhaled into fragile lungs, of promises never kept, of words full of meaning but at the same time full of an ever present nonchalance. girls crowd around him because he looks hot in a leather jacket and has the hidden tones of an angel, and he'll never wave off their advances, even when yugyeom is staring at him from the other side of the hallway. every inch of him tells yugyeom that he's going to break his heart.

but yugyeom doesn't care. he stopped caring about himself a long time ago and he doesn't have the energy to start now.

-

sometimes jaebum will kiss him.

hushed words and quiet mutterances aside, the back of the library is silent. it's where yugyeom has hid for the past two years because it's the one place in school no one else is familiar with. it's the one place is school where no one will notice the 'bad boy' pushing the kid no one ever quite remembers (despite the fact that he should stand out more than enough for his own good) up against the bookshelves and wrapping strong arms around a delicate waist.

jaebum is soft in his kisses, even with the cold metal against his lips and violence engrained in his psyche. he kisses like he means it, thumbs rubbing across yugyeom's palm or fingers brushing against his jawline or hands running over his back, every part of it so unusually calming.

sometimes, yugyeom lets himself believe he means it.

-

yugyeom lets jaebum get away with too much.

they aren't dating, after all.

and if the rumours that jaebum fucked a girl in the back of the library till she cried make yugyeom cry himself, no one has to know.

jaebum doesn't have to know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short bc i don't have the energy to write rn, but the ending was gonna be that the rumour was actually bc jaebum and yugyeom fucked in the library and someone overheard them and thought yugyeom was a girl cause his moans are high-pitched and he squeals too much when jaebum fucks him just right :)


	6. all night [markgyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 0.3k  
> \- fluff with sexual themes.
> 
> this is barely anything whoops!! been trying to force myself to write but nothing is happening lol

there's so many words mark wishes he could say, but they die before they can unfurl on his tongue.

mark may be typically silent, but this, the sight of yugyeom - lying pliant on the sheets of his hotel room bed, one of his loose-fitting shirts lying low over his chest to expose an expanse of pale skin and the collarbones mark yearns to scrape his sharp teeth over, half-lidded eyes staring up in his direction leading mark to lose himself, hypnotised by his gaze - destroys any sense of thought, let alone speech, and his feet are carrying him over before he can even realise what's going on.

the smile that sinks onto yugyeom's pretty mouth is both seductive and innocent - and the intensely opposing combination sends mark's mind into a spiral, hands carefully slinking up his sides to clutch at his thin waist as mark knocks open yugyeom's closed thighs with his knee, perching himself between his spread legs. yugyeom flicks his tongue over his lips and mark peers at him with a watchful eye, swallowing heavily as more sinful than he'd admit thoughts flood his head (of nights when they'd have to keep quiet in the dorm and mark would slip fingers between open lips, whispering for yugyeom to keep his pretty little voice down as he did unspeakable things to do a boy he looks down on with stars in his eyes) - and yugyeom giggles, once darker look swept away as his nose scrunches up, and mark near melts, leaning forward to drop kisses on his cheeks because he truly can not help himself.

it's nice to be soft for once, their lips meeting in a slide that isn't dirty or filthy, but rather innocent. they'd become accustomated to the rush, of the drive to get off before performance after performance - and now, just right now, he has the chance to truly appreciate yugyeom, to praise every single inch of his long frame, to mark him with tongue and teeth and nails, to fuck him until he's lost in the clouds. he has time, precious time to look after his precious boy, and even as yugyeom rocks up against himself, he holds himself back.

"calm down. we have all night, baby," he murmurs, watching yugyeom freeze as the realisation sinks in.

they have all night.

one night is all mark and yugyeom need.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has nothing to do with my writing but i made [a twitter account](https://twitter.com/lookgyeom), so if anyone wants to talk about gyeomie or any of my fics with me, feel free to contact me there!!


	7. stranger [guanlin + yugyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc i'm a sad bitch who adores their biases too much (guanlin and yugyeomie are both very tol bois with soft smiles who i love with all my cold dead heart uwu) i had to write a crossover fic involving them. i didn't want to make this romantic in any way bc i'm pretty sure there is an age gap between them that i'm not entirely comfortable with so it's more of a one-sided sort-of-crush on lin's part!! enjoy this random thing that came out of nowhere lol

guanlin doesn't recognise any of the people passing by his seat tucked carefully into the middle of his group or any of the people surrounding him as they bounce along to the unfamiliar songs filling the air or any of the people littering the stage - if he's being honest, he recognises very little here. the music pounding into him skull with its intensity is unheard of, the blinding lights shining down across an expanse of stage and crowd are something he's entirely not used to, hell, even the language that slips out of stranger's lips is still somewhat unrecognisable at first glance. 

it's not like he expects to recognise anything. after all, he's sitting in a idol-focused awards show miles from home, watching thousands of fans scream for him, for his group. nothing is normal and everything is exhilarating and every moment is almost overwhelming in the excitement it brings to his slightly nervous mind. there's one thing more than a little less than normal that has him rooted to his seat - the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as his eyes land on one boy.

the boy had been on stage, moving with a fluidity that guanlin envied in comparison to his own more awkward style of dancing, but any sense of jealousy is swept away in guanlin's amazement. because the boy sweeps across the stage as if he owns it and the soft strands of silver hair are sticking to a face guanlin can't take his eyes off and the high voice that escapes is _captivating_.

guanlin tugs on jihoon's jacket with little care. "hyung, who is that?"

jihoon seems a little distracted (not that guanlin blames him) but he answers after guanlin pouts a little. "oh, that's got7-sunbaenim."

guanlin peers down at the group of seven travelling down to their seats, eyes fixated on a boy wearing blue velvet and smiling widely, so widely that the skin around his eyes crinkle and gunalin's heart twists. "got7, huh?" he sounds out, unable to take his eyes away even as jihoon frowns at his dreamy voice.

guanlin is so gay, he laments as he stares at stranger whose name he does not know.

so gay and so fucked.

-

yugyeom doesn't notice the eyes on him from across the arena.

after all...

he's too focused on the six boys who he can't take his own eyes off.

as always.


	8. we can kill some time [markgyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- meaningless markgyeom smut bc why the fuck not honestly  
> \- low-key inspired by those photos of yugyeom and the stuffed dog from a recent fansign  
> \- i'm certified markgyeom trash, i apologise how all i write about is them

yugyeom has his face squished against one of his many stuffed animals, but it does nothing to hide the flush that spreads from the curve of his cheekbones to the tip of his ears.

mark coos at the sight of him, pressing his fingers ever so harder against the soft flesh of his thighs and spreading his legs ever so wider to better slot up against his hips. yugyeom _burns_ , the red burning ever so brightly on his pale skin and spreading down, down, down - past bitten raw lips and a bruised neck and hardened nipples - all the way to his pretty little cock that bounces with each thrust and leaves his tummy sticky with a pool of pre-cum. his whine is muffled, teeth biting down on the ear of the dog plushie clenched tightly between his arms, but it sounds like heaven to mark's unblessed ears - and he wants more of it, more of him, more of yugyeom in any way the other will allow.

mark's hands wander, fingertips pressing against the obscene stretch of yugyeom's rim around his cock, eyes filling with unvoiced amusement as yugyeom twitches in what cannot be described as either a protest or a want for more (knowing yugyeom, it's likely the latter). yugyeom squirms as mark dips his fingers into the mess of lube coating the inner part of his sensitive thighs, slick making it that little bit easier to gently ease in until the knuckle, watching as his baby's back arches and his walls clamp down around him in a vice grip. 

yugyeom's so pliant, so willing, taking anything mark will give him, even if it means being filled beyond his limit. yugyeom simply moans and mewls as mark stuffs him even more full, presses finger after finger alongside his dick to leave him gaping and loose and _ready_. it's a little mean of him, peering down as yugyeom begs silently for more, whatever that may entail, but the feeling of his hole clenching and squeezing is addicting, intoxicating and all mark wants to do is admire the sight, pulling his ass cheeks further apart with his free hand to see how his cock and his hand work in tandem to leave yugyeom practically pleading for release. but mark isn't a monster and it isn't long before the slow work of his hand is replaced with the fast pace of his hips.

yugyeom screams, barely quieted by the hiding of his face, when mark rocks into him, fucks into him with abandon and little care. the squealching sounds are filthy and dirty and mark loves them almost as much as the sight of his baby losing his grip and just letting his arms lay loose and his mouth wide open as he gets pushed over the edge. yugyeom whimpers through it, whimpers through the oversensitivity as his chest is painted white and he cums untouched, lets mark hold him open and fuck him deep and relishes in the feeling of being so sloppy and messy and tells him as such, whispering unspeakable words into the quiet of their room as he sneaks a hand to his half-hard cock and debates whether to fuck up into his hand or mark's erratic thrusts.

mark doesn't stop, won't stop, even as yugyeom cums again, squealing as mark rams into him without mercy and his hands cling for purchase on the stuffed animal at his side.

"look at you, baby," mark murmurs, appreciatively staring down at how his cock glides easily into his fucked open rim and the cum staining yugyeom's tummy and the bedsheets and groaning at how yugyeom doesn't stop begging for him to go _harder_. "already came twice and still so fucking eager for more."

"always eager for daddy," yugyeom cries out.

"always."


	9. who’s this whisper telling me that i’m never gonna get away? [markgyeom]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is lowkey fucked up bc i’ve been in the mood to write some dark shit
> 
> warnings for stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, references to past child neglect and domestic violence

yugyeom’s name is being echoed across the hotel room again.

the crackling sound of a newscaster fills the space. an old face appears briefly on the screen of a tv that clearly hasn’t seen repairs for years. maybe yugyeom used to tune in every night to the late news to see what he’s missed in seoul. the days like that seem too far away now.

“kim yugyeom, aged twenty-two, went missing four months ago in downtown seoul.” for a second, there’s a picture of him. before. dark hair cut properly like he told him to. now, it’s a little too long, curling at the edges, a dirty blonde that needs to be retouched. he likes current him a lot more. there’s a sense of rebellion now that he appreciates, a distance between what he became and what he truly is. “his loved ones are accepting any information-“

yugyeom shuts the tv off then. loved ones. what a fucking joke. yugyeom only knew love in subtle neglect and, later, the fists of who he thought he could trust. he was loved in toxicity and so he loved himself in the most unloveable way possible, starving himself until bones were close to tearing through his skin. and now, only now, in the dim lights of a motel in one of the most desolate parts of seoul, does he know what love should be.

“they’re still trying?” yugyeom lets out a sharp breath at the sudden sound, still easily shocked after all this time of expecting a monster to slip through the door. mark’s leaning against the bathroom door frame, sweatpants lying low on his hips, platinum locks dripping. a smirk slips onto his face when he catches yugyeom staring at the droplets on water sliding down his chest.

it’s a soft smirk, not animalistic. back at the beginning, yugyeom thought mark was just a monster. he stole yugyeom from the open door of his apartment and kept him hidden in his car and had several pictures he really shouldn’t have had stored in his phone. by definition, he was a stalker.

but then he dragged yugyeom with a hood over his head through an aisle of hair dyes and joked about sharing the same colour (even if they never get it quite right) and had an awkward little smile on his face. there was something about him that has always made yugyeom feel safe. the slight american accent to his quiet words, the hysterical laughter he let out whenever he found something that really wasn’t that funny hilarious, the anger that overtook his handsome features when he found the barley healed wounds littering yugyeom’s everything. to yugyeom, he’s his saviour.

society says it’s stockholm syndrome. yugyeom thinks a better description would be that he’s fucked up and mark’s fucked up and that makes them the perfect match.

“of course,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

mark perches on the end of their shared bed, patting his thighs and yugyeom falls into him as easy as mark swept him away. “my baby doesn’t plan on leaving me?” if he would have uttered it, manipulation would have coloured every single word. but it’s mark and he knows that yugyeom would never want to leave him. not now.

“i’d never leave you,” yugyeom murmurs, catching mark’s lips with his own.

it’s the truth.


End file.
